Apparently the world of jazz musicianship is particularly vicious if Whiplash is anything to go by, a “Full Metal Jacket at Julliard” type thriller that comes courtesy of producer Jason Blum, whose credits include such scarers as Insidious, Paranormal Activity and Sinister. Though it seems strange that a producer best known for his work in the horror genre has assisted in bringing this dramatic character study to life (it initially began as a short film that played at Sundance the year prior), Blum’s familiarity with villainous atmospheres is none more present than it is with the character of Terrence Fletcher.
As wholly embodied by J.K. Simmons, Fletcher is as terrifying a presence could be, dominating and intimidating his students with ease, physically and emotionally abusive to the pupils he so desperately wants to improve. Clad head to toe in black, his t-shirts showcasing his daunting physique, Fletcher is a nightmarish creation who, in between hurling equipment, cruel put-downs and damaging mind games, only seldom reveals his humanity. The pupil who suffers the most is Andrew (Miles Teller), an aspiring drummer plucked by Fletcher himself from a second-tier classroom, who clearly holds the potential to be the next great thing in jazz percussion.
As he retrieves vital information from Andrew, only to then use it against him in a humiliating display in front of his fellow class members, Fletcher succeeds as burrowing into his head which only enhances Andrew’s will as he practices tirelessly until his fingers are bleeding profusely over his drum kit; the obsession to perfect his craft clearly holds no bounds. Most people would walk away from Fletcher’s vile methods but in Andrew’s case that would be quitting, and being the best requires no other option but to persevere, something that Fletcher’s unorthodox methods assist in as he proves the push Andrew needs to survive.
Teller, who has proved his brilliance in such fare as The Spectacular Now but has been relegated lately to lesser material like Are We Officially Dating, is nothing short of mesmerising here as he physically throws himself in to a role that highlights how gruelling and exhausting a jazz performance can be. The cocky swagger that has hovered in his other roles has been replaced by a vulnerability that aids the character in creating sympathy for him – even when Fletcher’s insanity starts to rub off on him and he begins to self-destruct his relationships; the lovely Melissa Benoist (TV’s Glee) as Andrew’s could-be girlfriend feeling the brunt.
As much as Teller announces himself as a talent to take notice of, Whiplash would be nothing without Simmons. Like a man possessed, it’s impossible to draw your eyes away from him, commanding the screen with an effortless grace that is both revolutionary and revolting. Armed with an assortment of offensive jabs, writer/director Damien Chazelle has created one of cinema’s most abhorrent yet brilliant creations in Fletcher who constantly keeps the audience second guessing as his ability to reveal his sincerity makes you question which act he’s putting on; the nice guy posing as a dictator, or the other way around.
Regardless of whether or not you’re a jazz music fan, Whiplash proves relatable to anyone who has strived for excellence and paid the cost of its inflated demand. A cinematic punch to the gut, this film deserves to be seen for Simmons’ terrifying performance alone – one that all but guarantees himself an Oscar nod come early 2015.
Review Score: FOUR AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Whiplash is out in Australian cinemas tomorrow, October 23rd.
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